


we're gonna be friends

by hjea



Category: BrainDead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjea/pseuds/hjea
Summary: How to win friends and influence people (and by people we mean space bugs).





	we're gonna be friends

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously the shortened nature of a season like BrainDead means we don't get as much time to dwell on character backgrounds, but I wanted to know a lot more about Rochelle than we got, so I made it up. :) And I also thought it was important for Laurel and Rochelle's friendship to be made a little more grounded outside of just working against the space bugs. Although if anything is going to bond you...
> 
> Takes place after 1x09.

It said something about Laurel’s life of late that spending another night sitting around her kitchen table with Gustav and Rochelle, trying to uncover the extraterrestrial bug agenda, felt blessedly normal and comforting. She sipped at her coffee and watched with a weird sense of contentment as Gustav began packing up, muttering as he fiddled with his phone, still frustrated that he hadn’t managed to tap into the new frequency the bugs were transmitting. He still took the time to give them both a half-hug before he left, and a cheery admonishment to “remember your ear covers,” and “don’t let the space bugs bite!” on his way out the door. 

Laurel smiled as she stood up to lock the door behind him, waving until he disappeared down the front steps of her building, and then turned back to Rochelle. She was frowning over the file from SRB-54, flipping back and forth between pages. 

“Any more ideas?” 

Rochelle sighed and rubbed at the spot between her eyebrows. “Not really.” She pushed the folder back across the table as Laurel sat down. “Either they really are plans for internment camps for Syrian nationals, all designed to get the country embroiled in ideological warfare as a distraction, or the bugs are actually going to build them and…” Rochelle shrugged, “put us in them?” 

Laurel picked up the folder. “Two great options,” she muttered. The slightly fuzzy photographs of the blueprints unfocused even more and swam in front of her eyes, and she dropped them with finality on the table. “We’re not going to get any further on this tonight, are we?” 

“Probably not,” Rochelle agreed. “What time is it?” 

“Uh, one--” Laurel turned to look at the clock behind her, “-- _shit_ , thirty.” She groaned and stretched out across the table. “I need to get more sleep.” 

It had been hard feeling comfortable enough in her bed to get an uninterrupted night’s sleep after the whole _bugs in her head incident_ , and between that and the rather full-on nature of her job, and then spending the last week’s few free hours with Gareth happily screwing each other’s brains out (thankfully in a strictly metaphorical sense this time)... needless to say a luxurious eight hours was somewhat of a distant memory. 

Rochelle hummed in agreement and walked over to the counter to refill her coffee cup. Laurel sat up a little, propping her head in her hand as she regarded the other woman. “I have no idea how you’re doing it, balancing your residency with all,” she waved her hand vaguely, “this.” 

“I don’t know either.” Rochelle sounded amused as she sat down again. “Which is probably the sleep deprivation at work. But it’s important. So we make the time, right?” 

Laurel nodded her agreement. “Are you going to be at the hospital tomorrow?” 

Rochelle hesitated. “Uh no, ” she admitted, gaze dropping in her lap. “I’m going to my dad’s place for the weekend. I have to pack up the last of his things.” 

“Oh.” Laurel straightened. “I didn’t know you still had... I’m sorry.” 

It struck Laurel suddenly how little she knew about Rochelle’s life. Other than her profession, and the fact that she seemed to share Laurel’s soft spot for 70s pop tunes, there was really very little she could say about her. Since her father’s death had brought them together, Laurel had spent innumerable hours with her and Gustav as the three of them stumbled around trying to piece together whatever was going on in D.C. The woman had been at least partially responsible for saving her life. But if they weren’t talking about bugs, she thought with a sick twist of guilt, then Laurel’s own entangled and ever more complicated personal drama tended to be the focus of their interactions. She was sure it was partly avoidance on her part. There was really no good way to say, “sometimes when I close my eyes I can still picture the exact moment Dr. Daudier’s face changed from a grimace of pain to an exploded mess of nothing.” Or, “you’re a doctor so maybe this won’t surprise you, but did you know I had to take an exciting cocktail of preventative drugs for two weeks after your father’s head exploded inches from my face and I aspirated just a little too much of his blood and brain matter?” 

It was a good excuse. But it was still an excuse.

Laurel cleared her throat, and caught Rochelle’s eyes with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry I never asked before. Is anyone else around to help? Your mom?” 

“My mom’s based in Geneva, actually. With Médecins Sans Frontières.” 

Laurel blinked. “Wow.” 

Rochelle flashed a ghost of a smile at her. “Yeah, she’s in Haiti at the moment. She did call to ask if I wanted her to come back and help with the funeral and everything but… mom and dad were cordial after the divorce, you know, for my sake? But they never really got along, and it just seemed easier to do it without her. I love my mom, and I really admire her. I decided to become a doctor because of her, instead of going into pure science like dad. But she can also be a lot to take.” She let out a wry laugh. “I get along with her a lot better when there’s an ocean between us.” 

Laurel laughed along with Rochelle. “Well, I can certainly understand that feeling.” 

“And…” Rochelle sobered again. “I didn’t really want her coming to D.C. I know we don’t know how far this goes, but I think she’s still safer in Haiti than here right now.” 

“Mom’s gone up to her usual retreat with friends in Martha’s Vineyard.” Laurel nodded. “Maybe not far away enough, but it’s at least better than being in the same house as my da--as that thing.”

Rochelle winced. “I’m sorry, I almost forgot--” 

Laurel smiled grimly. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve both lost fathers to this madness. In different ways.”

“Yeah.” Rochelle nodded sadly, and then tipped the last contents of her coffee into her mouth. “I guess I was heading out, wasn’t I?” 

She bent down to start gathering her things, and Laurel stood up and tidied the papers into a stack before grabbing their mugs and turning to place them in the kitchen sink. 

“Rochelle?” She asked, before turning around. Rochelle looked at her curiously.

“Yes?” 

“Do you want any help this weekend? With your dad’s things?” 

Rochelle looked surprised. “Oh, you don’t have to!” 

“No I want to,” Laurel took a step forward earnestly, “that is, if you’d want me there.” She let out an awkward chuckle. “This is an embarrassingly juvenile question for a thirty-two year old, but I kind of hope that you see me as a friend?” 

Rochelle blinked again in surprise, and then her face broke in a wide smile and she rounded the table to stand in front of Laurel. 

“We’re definitely friends. And I’d love the help tomorrow. Thank you.” 

Laurel smiled in relief, and bent down as Rochelle reached up to give her a tight hug. 

“Goodnight, Laurel.” 

“You too.” Laurel squeezed her friend and then stepped back. “You’ll text me when you get home?” 

“Of course.” 

She walked her to the door, waving again as Rochelle started down the hall toward the front. 

“Oh I forgot!” Rochelle turned around, and grinned. “Don’t let the space bugs bite?” 

Laurel laughed. “Don’t let the space bugs bite.”


End file.
